Waiting for the Sunrise
by DivineMissP
Summary: An AU ending for 'Unnatural Habits' where Jack doesn't leave right after Aunt P's interruption... As always, there will be smut :)
1. Chapter 1

_An AU ending for Season 2 Episode 12 'Unnatural Habits', when we were all left screaming at our screens when Aunt P interrupted a very important moment…_

_The title comes from the music that played as Phryne closed the front door, and on into the credits: 'The World is Waiting for the Sunrise'._

_I know that you're all biting your nails waiting on the next chapter of '1 Year' but this is something that I started writing a while ago, and I just had to put it up after watching last Saturday's repeat of that episode here in Aus. (And is anyone else as incensed as I am, that after repeating all of Season 2, even though now *is* July, they've decided not to repeat the Christmas in July episode? They're probably saving it to play at Christmastime so that they can run a 'Coming in 2015' ad after it for Season 3, but still… grrrr!)_

_Anyhow – enjoy :)_

xoxox

He felt as if he had been torn from her, and as her aunt bustled away to attend to the mewling infant, he knew that he had to get back to those few seconds; when he had been in control, when all of his whirling thoughts of the last many hours had coalesced into a single focus that required immediate action – he had to kiss her.

It had not been his intention when he had come here; in fact he was unsure what his intention *had* been. All he had known was that he had been in turmoil ever since he had turned his head to where Phryne had been standing by the station door, only to find her gone. He had been immediately beset by a terrible sense of guilt; and although he had not been entirely sure why, in this case, doing the right thing had definitely *felt* like the wrong thing.

He had had to go to Rosie; there was really no question. They might have been divorced, but once the decision had been made, it had been reasonably amicable, and he would always remember that there had been a time when they had been in love. In all of the time that they had been married, though, he had not seen her as distraught as she had been earlier. In all the times that they had fought, and even when her mother had died after a long illness, she had always been a woman who sobbed quietly into a handkerchief, not unrestrainedly as she clung to him like a lifeline, as she had tonight.

She had come alone to the station, not knowing the extent of what had transpired, and without advising her sister that their father was in some sort of trouble (again). Once she had known, Jack could see that she was in no fit state, and it would be up to him to explain the situation to his former in-laws. Rosie had sobbed all the way to their house, and he really couldn't blame her. Her engagement had been a sham, perpetrated by a man who wanted only to use her as a bargaining chip, a man who had done terrible things, some of which might never be made right. Her father, who she had always held up as an example of something Jack should aspire to be, had enabled Sidney to carry on his illegal activities, and all for the sake of power.

Things would only get worse – Jack had yet to reveal to her that, in all likelihood, George's shooting of Maurice Bourke, back in January, had actually been murder – he hadn't really thought he had a weapon, he had just wanted to keep him from revealing to Jack any further information regarding 'the box'. Would he hang? Probably not, but at his age, whatever sentence he received would likely be for the term of his remaining life. Jack wondered, bitterly, what other secrets were lurking in George's life that would be revealed in the coming days and weeks. Had he been on the take all along? Even at his current rank, he lived beyond the means of a police officer; Jack had always been under the impression that he had inherited money, but now he wasn't so sure…

He had finally been able to tear himself away from the Sanderson sisters, leaving them to his miserable former brother-in-law. That man cared very much what other people thought, and Jack could well imagine him escaping the Melbourne gossip and removing his wife to the other side of the world at his earliest opportunity. Would they take Rosie with them? Time would tell…

Tomorrow would be a terrible day, but now he just wanted to clear all that from his mind, and return to the woman who usually occupied his thoughts. As he had sat in the car outside Phryne's house, watching the lights go out one by one, he had been unable to form any clear idea of what he wanted to say to her; but he had to see her. He had to show her that he was… what exactly? He didn't know; he just knew that things between them had been going in a direction that might be irrevocably altered if he didn't take some action tonight.

So he had made his way up her path, and stood at her door, feeling like a dog that had done something naughty, returning to its owner with its tail between its legs.

She had certainly given him mixed signals once he had been admitted to her house.

"Is it too late?"

"Never…"

He didn't think that either of them had been referring to the time.

But then when he had tried to explain about Rosie, Phryne had assured him that that was exactly where he should have been, and although her look was affectionate, it was also sad; she was resigned to his place with his (former) wife. *That* had been the catalyst to his decision to step forward.

Now, the silence stretched between them. His brain told him that he should be leaving, but his heart just wouldn't let him. Mrs Stanley's murmurings to the baby finally broke through the fog in his brain, and he looked to Phryne in desperation. She seemed surprised, unsure of exactly what was happening, but she also seemed as reluctant as he that the moment should be left to pass.

She glanced quickly towards the parlour, then reached out and clasped his fingers in her hand, and tugged him towards the bottom step. She inclined her head toward the darkened upper reaches of the staircase. "Come up, before she comes back..." It was a statement, but it was also a question, and he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. He nodded his assent, and followed her quickly up to the second storey.

She stopped suddenly in the dark hallway, and he stumbled against her. She turned in his fumbling arms, her hands reaching inside his coat, and around his ribcage, and he hauled her against him, his hat falling, forgotten, to the floor. He felt, more than saw, her face tilt toward his, and he hesitated only a second before finding her lips with his. The kiss was fierce, and over in a matter of seconds, when they both pulled back ever so slightly, her nose still touching his, her hot breath mixing with his. Some sort of understanding passed between them in the darkness, and the kisses that followed were full of pent-up desperation, and longing, and relief.

His hand found the nape of her neck, then moved up to thread into her cap of hair, and he broke away from her to bury his nose in the silky strands, and unashamedly inhaled her clean, soapy scent.

"Phryne…" he breathed her name as he pressed a kiss into the side of her head, and she answered with a small, muffled sound of yearning against his chest. "When I found your lock pick… I knew… I knew what George had done… and, God, I thought… He wouldn't tell me where you were, and I thought... that I had lost you... I thought I'd lost you… I'm so sorry…" Although he had not thought it possible, he managed to pull her even tighter to him.

"Jack… Don't you dare be sorry… You have nothing to be sorry for…"

He shook his head against her. "Then there was Rosie… It shouldn't have been her… It's not what I wanted… I just wanted to see you… I should have been here with you… Forgive me…"

Right now, with his arms encircling her, he ought to have felt euphoric, but instead he felt utterly wretched. Once again his thoughts had turned to the events at the station, and he wondered how it was that he had responded to Rosie, having barely given Phryne a second thought. For God's sake, he had shot a man in her defence, but not once in the time since had he stopped to ask her if she was alright.

If he had known, when he went down to the docks, that she was being held captive on that ship, his heart would have been in his throat wondering at what a crew used to smuggling women might do to a female intruder. As it was, it had been only a matter of minutes between his discovery of her lock pick, and her appearance, and he had not had much time to think of anything other than life or death during his frantic search.

Now he had realised that he did not even know how long she had been there, or whether the others had been with her the entire time. He had been so relieved to find her alive on the ship, and then so busy during the aftermath, that he had not taken the time to consider what she may have been through before he had arrived.

It made him feel ill that he had been so unconcerned. Sure, she always projected an image of self-confidence, even to the point of arrogance, but *he* had seen her vulnerability, and he was sure that he was one of few who had. She was human, like everyone else, but she had seen and felt more suffering than most, and he knew that she was more fragile than she seemed.

He knew, now, that he loved her, and although he didn't know if he and Phryne could find their way to a long-term, committed relationship, he *did* know that it was something that he could never find again with Rosie.

His divorce, and his ever-deepening relationship with Phryne, had given him a clarity about his relationship with his former wife that he had never felt whilst married, not even in the final days. At the time, he had known that he was miserable, but that was not why he had divorced her; he had done it because she had asked for it, and he still cared enough about her to wish her any happiness that she might find without him. He had wondered if she would even go through with it; but of course he had not known then that Sidney had already worked his way into her affections.

Tonight he had already felt her regret at her change in circumstances, at having forsaken her unhappy marriage, to a good man, for an unknown future with a man who had turned out to be a criminal, and who had used her for his own gain.

She might not know it yet, but it was only a matter of time before her emotions coalesced into a need to draw Jack back to her. He could almost read her future intent, felt it with such certainty that it might almost be a living thing; if it was, it was a snake, waiting quietly in the corner for its opportunity to slowly coil itself around him, and squeeze the breath from his body.

If he were to let Rosie back into his life it might work for a while, but things would inevitably take a turn for the worse, and he would certainly lose his opportunity to find something more with Phryne – she might be blasé about her rather frequent liaisons, but she would not risk *her heart* if she saw that there was any chance that he might fall back into a familiar, if troubled, life with his former spouse.

Suddenly it was as clear as crystal to him – *that* was why he had come here tonight. To show Phryne that, although Rosie would always have a place in his heart, it was no longer hers, to do with what she would. His heart was now firmly in Phryne's hands, and he could only hope that she would treat it with the same reverence he felt for hers.

xoxox

_tbc_

_PS: Next chapter will be M-rated, so don't forget to change your Rating filter_


	2. Chapter 2

_So... I was going to write a re-cap for the first chapter, but every time I think about it I just can't come up with the right thing. Instead, I'm going to beg you to go back and read Chapter 1 again before you read this one, as this is only a 2 chapter story, and that way they'll flow seamlessly together. Hope that's not too much of a trial for you!_

xoxox

"Jack…" her voice cut through his turmoil "there is nothing to forgive… I am safe, and unharmed," he released a breath he didn't even realise he was holding, "and Rosie *needed* you…

"Yes," he acknowledged her words in a low voice, "but I need you to understand… that her need for me… will never be more important… than *my* need for *you*."

He heard her intake of breath, and felt her fingers tighten where they clutched at his back. Her mouth found his again, and he knew that she believed him, right here in this moment, but as he returned her kiss, he knew that, although she had not asked for it, he would have to give her more.

As much as he had wished for their relationship to progress to something more meaningful, the idea of being physically intimate with Phryne terrified him to the point that he had dared not think about it beyond anything more than what was happening between them now.

He was afraid of not living up to her expectations. He was afraid of embarrassing himself like an inexperienced youngster. Afraid of what she would think of his too-lean body, and the scars that Rosie would never touch. Yes, he loved Phryne desperately, but he was terrified that he somehow would not be able to show her.

But he knew that now was a time for action; Phryne may very well have accepted his words, but that was all they were. He had to prove to her, now or maybe never, that she could trust in him, no matter what tomorrow held. She was a physical creature, whereas he was not, and she would know that he would *never* come to her bed if there was even the slightest chance that he would be reconciled with his former wife.

The sudden sound of Mrs Stanley's steps crossing the tiled entry downstairs had him mustering his courage. He heard Phryne's dismay as he suddenly stepped a little away from her, releasing her upper body; then her gasp of surprise as he fluidly bent to grip her buttocks, and hoisted her up to wrap her legs around his waist.

The action of sliding his hands down and around her hips made him immediately aware of one thing – she was not wearing any underwear beneath the pale nightdress that had peeked out from her black robe as they had climbed the stairs. Courage be damned – all other thoughts fled to the periphery, and his awareness became entirely focused on his need to run his hands over her heated skin, and to have her soft curves beneath him.

As he took the first step his foot kicked against something with the softest of thuds, and he realised, with a grimace, that it was his hat; however he had no intention of releasing the prize that was now in his arms, and, with difficulty (and strength he didn't know he had possessed), he managed to manoeuvre in such a way as to retrieve it.

A chink of soft light glowed in the hallway, where Phryne had earlier pulled her door close against its jamb, and he moved towards it as she clung to his neck. He toed the door open, tossed his hat through the gap, and, once inside, released her so that he might turn the knob and push the door to without waking Dot in her upstairs room – or arousing Mrs Stanley's curiosity downstairs.

As he released his grip on the doorknob, Phryne stepped in and deftly turned the key that sat in the lock, then faced him, her back against the door. Only one of her lamps was on, dully illuminating her upturned face, until he bent to cover her peach-hued lips with his own once more. This time the kiss was long and slow, and he luxuriated in the feel of her soft mouth against his, as his tongue lazily explored, and gently teased – until he had to break away to laugh at her muffled sounds of impatience.

She had pulled him against her, and he was suddenly very conscious of his hardness pressing against her hip. Given what he was planning on doing with it, it was silly, but he was thankful that the dimness of the lamp would not allow her to see the blush spreading across his cheeks.

However, she *had* seen the change in his countenance as his embarrassment sobered him, and she was scrutinising his face as best she could in the low light. Her voice was a little uncertain as she spoke, "Jack… Are you sure that this is what you want?"

He moved away enough that she could see his face a little better, and brought his hand up to caress the side of her face. "Phryne…" He took a breath, and looked her in the eyes, his gaze open so that she might find what she would there. "I have never been so sure of anything…"

She looked at him, searchingly, for a moment, before giving him a gentle smile, and pressing up on her toes to kiss him just as gently. Soon enough, though, the kiss deepened, and as his arm snaked around behind her, this time he was the one to press his weight against her.

Between increasingly heated kisses, she spoke to him in a low voice. "As much… as I hate… to interrupt this… if Aunt P… sees the light… under the door… she might knock…"

Jack did not need any further incentive, and he reluctantly released her, and stood a little awkwardly near the bed. However, the moment Phryne bent to switch off the lamp, he reached for his shoelaces, and was amazed at the speed with which he was able to remove his shoes, his socks, and their requisite garters, leaving him standing barefoot on the carpet.

At some unknown stage at the door, Phryne had already removed his tie, and pulled his shirt and singlet from the waistband of his trousers. As she drew back one pair of her heavy bedroom curtains, spilling moonlight into the room, Jack was tossing his overcoat and suit jacket onto the floor.

Like a forest sprite from some mythical tale, he saw her trip towards him through the pale patches of light, and then she was there, her mouth on his, her fingers working at his waistcoat, and then his shirtfront and cuffs. He shrugged the waistcoat off, and, buttons undone, she pushed his shirt back over his shoulders, his braces tangling in it as he worked his arms and hands out of the sleeves. She pulled up at the hem of his singlet until he bent so that she could tug it over his head, and his hands were already sliding back between her robe and her silken nightdress as she tossed it into the darkness.

When her hands met his chest, and traced a path down the firm muscles of his abdomen and below the sagging waistband of his trousers, reality swiftly caught up with him, and he broke their kiss involuntarily; things were moving quickly, and if she touched him now, it may well be his undoing. He grabbed for her small fingers before they could venture any further, and drew them up and away, before pressing a slow kiss to the knuckles of each hand.

She seemed to understand, and did not attempt to return them to their previous explorations, instead reaching up to wind her arms around his neck, and pull her body taut against his.

He bent his head to kiss the right side of her neck, inhaling the perfume that lingered warmly on her skin, then caught her earlobe gently between his teeth. When his tongue flicked forward to caress it, she gasped and jerked against him, and he groaned at the bolt of pleasure that coursed through his body.

As he kissed her neck again the fingers of his left hand found the collar of her robe, and he pushed it off her shoulder and down her arm, giving him access to the length of her collarbone, which his lips explored, as his right hand began to explore her upper body for the first time.

Her arms were still up and resting loosely on his shoulders, but as his right hand slid over her nipple she trailed her hand down his upper arm, releasing the full weight of her small breast to be cupped in his hand.

He groaned again, and released it to haul her close against him once more, and tangle his fingers in her hair as he kissed her deeply; but now that his fingers had touched that soft form they wanted more. He became impatient, pushing off the left shoulder of her robe, so that the garment now slithered to pool at their feet. His thumb brushed her nipple where it strained against the silk, and Phryne made a desperate sound against his mouth.

He abandoned it for a moment to brush the ribbon strap of her nightdress down over her left shoulder, releasing her bare breast to his questing fingers. As he caught the nipple between two fingers, she pushed against him so that she was entirely pressed into his palm. He squeezed gently, and she breathed a sound that was both satisfaction and longing.

Of course he had seen her breasts before, both on canvas, and at the Imperial Club, and he wasn't ashamed to admit that he had dreamed about touching them, kissing them. Now, though, he had the sudden urge to take her hard nipple between his teeth, to open his mouth wide and fill it with the soft mound beneath his fingers.

He had never done something like that before; he had never felt that particular urge, and he certainly couldn't imagine Rosie allowing it. Not that he wanted to think about Rosie now… But what would Phryne think of this new craving? As she squirmed under his fingers he had the idea that she just might like it; and his brain left the decision to other parts of his anatomy.

Once again he bent and scooped her into his arms, but only for long enough to lay her across the large bed. He knelt above her for a moment, his hands on either side of her, one knee between her thighs, before falling to his elbows, where their mouths met hungrily for a moment.

He bent his head to kiss beneath her jaw, then the hollow at the base of her throat, before reaching the upper swelling of her breast. He inhaled her scent as he traced downwards, and pressed a gentle kiss on the pale, moonlit curve; and felt her nipple press into the stubble of his cheek. When Phryne's fingers laced into his hair, effectively holding him there, he knew that she would not object to what he had in mind.

The tip of his nose found the peak of her nipple, and he gave it a little push upwards until it sprang back against his lips. When his tongue touched it Phryne cried out, and her chest heaved as he opened his mouth to suck gently at the swollen bud.

The feeling was incredible, and he was sure that he had not been so hard in his entire life. He was dangerously close to tipping point, but he reflected that both breasts deserved the same attention, and as he released her left breast, his fingers were already working at releasing her right from its silken confines.

Phryne was only too happy to assist, and he had transferred his attentions within a matter of seconds. She writhed beneath him as his mouth worked, and when he lifted his head he saw her pale neck exposed, as her head tilted back in pleasure.

He kissed his way up it until his tongue tangled with hers once more, as his hand moved to find the buttons of his strained trousers. He was thrown into a moment of confusion as his hand brushed something wet; when he realised that it was her slickness that dampened her nightdress and thighs, he very nearly lost his tenuous control.

As he leaned back to pull off his trousers and undershorts, Phryne wriggled, and he saw her toss her nightdress into the darkness. She was a glorious sight as she reclined in the silvery moonlight, from her hair that spread riotous upon the covers, to the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. As he watched, she bent her knee and brought her leg up from between his and caressed his own hard-muscled thigh with her foot, before placing it to the side.

He realised that he was trembling, as she lay with her legs spread around him, and her hand extended to draw him down upon her, skin-to-skin for the first time.

She waited as he breathed several deep breaths against her hair, before she wriggled a little beneath him, then touched his length just long enough to guide him to her entrance.

He surprised himself by *not* coming right there and then as he slid inside her. She was so wet, and so hot, and so tight, and he had wanted her for so long, but somehow he managed to find a rhythm that was not as frantic as the signals that his throbbing cock was sending to his brain, and Phryne's small body moved in harmony with his, her feet twined around his buttocks, her hands pressing into the back of his ribcage.

His mouth found hers in the darkness, and although they were both panting too hard to kiss, the contact was enough.

She said "Ah… Jack!" as one of her heels pushed into his buttock, and her head went back involuntarily as she cried out, and the tremors coursed through her.

His mouth was at her throat, his left arm under shoulder blades, his right hand gripping her hip, as he came with a violence he had never known; an ecstasy that he had never known.

He could not later have said whether he had spoken any words in that moment, but as he lay there, damp with sex and perspiration, softening inside her, he had the overwhelming urge to kiss her again.

They remained that way for some time, legs tangled, their mouths alternating between murmured words and soft, slow kisses, before she let him roll onto his back and draw her to his side.

Her breathing gradually slowed, and a slight twitch of her fingers on his chest told him that she was asleep.

Tomorrow all hell would break loose over the Sanderson/Fletcher case, and if he were honest, the last thing he needed was to be discovered by Mrs Stanley, and be accosted over his 'unmarried relations' with her niece. However, he could not leave now, as so many of her 'partners' before him. As he lay there, he was already decided that, as far as having a relationship with Phryne was concerned, he was not above sneaking around.

Yes, he might have to make his exit down the back stairs and out through the rear garden, but it was something that was simply understood between them in regard to this new direction in their lives – he would not gather up his things, and disappear into the darkness; he would be here in the morning, to wake with her beside him.

*Together* they would face whatever the sunrise would bring.

_The End._

xoxox

_Hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are love :)_


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